We want simple things,” Atilio Curiñanco of the Santa Rosa community says to me through a crackling connection. “Most people don’t understand that.”
It is February 11, and in three days the families of the community of Santa Rosa will mark the two-year anniversary of their nonviolent reclamation of their ancestral territory. In the early hours of February 14, 2007, Atilio, his wife Rosa Nahuelquir, and 30 others of Mapuche descent stepped over a rusted fence and began cultivating and camping on a piece of land from which their grandparents had been displaced more than 100 years ago. The land, a sizable 1,322 acres, stretches alongside the small mountain town of Leleque in the province of Chubut, about 110 miles south of the tourist town of Bariloche.
The soil in Leleque is both rich for cultivation and rich with history. Historians believe the Mapuche, or “People of the Earth” as their name means in their native Mapudungun language, have been living in the fertile valleys of the Patagonian Andes for more than 13,000 years. With the creation of state of Argentina, the Mapuche were decimated and displaced by military campaigns of extermination such as the Conquest of the Desert from 1876 to 1896, led by General and former President Julio Argentino Roca, aimed specifically at wiping out native communities.
Encouraging the colonization of Patagonia, the Argentine government awarded more than 2 million acres of confiscated Mapuche land to the British company Tierras de Sud Argentino, which held onto it until in 1991, when it was purchased by the Benetton Group for $50 million, making the Italian clothing company the largest private landholder in all of Argentina.
To Benetton—which pulls in more than $2.7 billion annually, is a major producer and exporter of wool and mutton in the region, and is currently exploring the possibility of mining in the area—those “simple things” that Atilio speaks of are a simple matter of stealing private property. Benetton claims irreparable damage is being done to the land by the small hand-tended crops, the short metal-roofed huts, the water tank, and the Mapuche flags, and the company has responded with criminal charges, restrictive measures, and an ongoing legal battle for possession.
Edgardo Monosalvo, lawyer for the community of Santa Rosa, says that Benetton’s bitter fight to retain this fraction of its extensive holdings is “purely and exclusively an issue of pride.” He says that when the Mapuches set up camp on the territory, Benetton had not been using it for anything, and he believes the company has no specific plans for its future.
So far, judges in the case have rejected Benetton’s criminal charges as well as claims that the land is being irreversibly damaged and the request for its return to the company for the duration of the trial to determine possession.
“We have won two hard battles,” Monosalvo says, but the past two years of legal proceedings, claims, appeals, and more have been “exhausting for the community.” In the coming months, the Mapuches and Benetton will begin presenting arguments and evidence as part of the trial for possession. It is unclear, however, when the trial for ultimate property rights, different from those of possession, will begin, says Monosalvo.
The chances of a small community of Mapuches winning possession of hectares owned by a private corporate giant such as Benetton would be a noble but lost cause if it weren’t for a pesky article buried in Argentina’s constitution that gives the community of Santa Rosa and many other indigenous communities in similar battles a foundation from which to fight.
Amended only in 1994, section 17 of article 75 of the national constitution is surprisingly explicit about the recognition of indigenous peoples “ethnic and cultural pre-existence” to the state of Argentina, and “recognizes the legal capacity of these communities to the possession and property of land that they have traditionally occupied.”
The application of this constitutional amendment, however, is left up to each province to manage. Because of its relative newness, Monosalvo says, provincial judges are slow to apply the amendment and generally defer to the civil codes of private property.
“It’s not that the civil code isn’t applicable, but when there is a case of an original community, the judges have to apply the constitutional law and give it priority,” he says.
With this constitutional amendment, Monosalvo and the Santa Rosa community have reason to hope. “Ten years ago you couldn’t even think about doing something like this.”
MORE THAN LAND
Though embroiled in a legal fight over a specific piece of territory, the Mapuches of Santa Rosa see the struggle as involving not just territory but recognition of their history, culture, and understanding of the land.
“I am a native, born and raised here,” says Atilio, whose father worked as a farmer on a ranch owned by Tierras de Sud Argentino. “Many have died in this place and left their blood in the earth. This is a call to attention for the Mapuche thought and way of life.”
There are currently more than 300,000 people of Mapuche descent living in Argentina, the majority of whom make up the urban poor in Andean cities like Esquel or Bariloche, living in shantytowns and struggling to find work, for the most part removed from the rural ways of life of their grandparents.
Darío Duch, lawyer, longtime advocate for the Mapuches, and now a councilor for the city of Bariloche, says that the conflict between the community of Santa Rosa and Benetton is ultimately a question of culture.
“It should be understood,” Duch says, “that indigenous territory isn’t just a piece of land that can be traded for another, but a specific cultural space that has a great spiritual importance.” Unlike the logic of private property, where “everything can be bought and sold,” Duch says that the Mapuches operate under the idea of communal property that “doesn’t belong to one person or one family, but a whole community.”
Though in writing the constitution grants indigenous communities rights to their ancestral territory, in practice, Duch says, there is little interest in actually honoring these rights because they are seen as standing in the way of economic development and a particular notion of progress.
“The province wants private investment, just like the national government, because they generate dividends and royalties,” says Duch. When a hydroelectric, mining, forestry, or—in this case—clothing company wants to set up shop in the region, Duch says, “the politicians lean toward the companies because they say they will bring work which shouldn’t be rejected.”
“And of course,” he adds, “there is corruption in the middle in the form of some type of commission, though the politicians deny it.”
SYMBOLIC STRUGGLE
While the timeframe for victory for the Santa Rosa community remains unclear, the implications of it are crystal clear. If the constitutional amendment is ultimately upheld and Santa Rosa gains possession of the 1,322 acres, “everyone is going to begin reclaiming territory with their own hands and hope that the state recognizes them,” Duch says. He acknowledges, however, that each case will be different and will require a protracted legal battle.
In the meantime, Atilio says that the Mapuches of Santa Rosa are “not mourning and waiting for things to happen” but are “doing what needs to be done” to meet their basic needs and keep the community going.
His voice full of passion, Edgardo Monosalvo says that though they are facing two long trials that may not be resolved for years, he is proud to defend the community and that the Mapuches have taught him “how to resist with joy in the face of injustice.”
“We know we are going to win,” he tells me calmly.
And when they do? Well, he says, “There’s a lot more land to reclaim in this country. This is historic.”
This article first appeared in The Argentimes on March 1, 2009.
